Morning Routine (Gone Wrong)
by illuminaughty
Summary: A sparring session with Dave goes a bit awry when Mindy decides to try something new. Just a fun oneshot for your more humorous Dave/Mindy needs. Rated for the language and a touch of violence.


**Morning Routine (Gone Wrong)**

* * *

**_Author's Note:_ **Right, so this probably isn't the best way to start my new collection of fanfictions, (I'm on a new account here for the first time in a while.) But my friend Ray and I were on Skype all last night, and he wanted to see a quick Dave/Mindy oneshot. Of course, I obliged, and this is what became of it. I currently have an ongoing _Kick-Ass_ fanfiction on my computer that's got four completed chapters, but I'm waiting until I finish five or six to post it - just to ensure I don't leave a story to rot. But I promise it's a lot better than this - this was done in a night, and my ongoing one was started in August of last year.

Either way, it was fun to write, and maybe you'll enjoy it.

* * *

At some point during it all - all of the cuts, scrapes, bloody noses, and _all_ of those bruises - Dave became aware that he might have a legitimate problem: he enjoyed fighting too much.

Every single time his face was pushed down against the floorboards or into the asphalt, it felt like a challenge, and the challenge itself was something that excited him. He could stay down, take his beating, and with any luck, he'd be able to see the following morning. He could let them frisk him for a wallet, some cash, maybe cop a feel while they were at it, and then let them walk away. It's what he'd done for most of his life, since for most of his life, he'd been a pushover. But Dave wasn't like that anymore - Dave met someone that took all that weakness right out of him by making him _crave_ the fight, right down to the losing, if it came to it.

And it came to losing a lot, though not as often on the streets as in the privacy of their training areas.

It was a morning routine. Dave would wake up well before sunrise, jog his way to the safe house for warm-up, and meet with Mindy. Together, they'd do the starters - chin-ups, pushups, and general weight training. Mindy – who was much smaller and _much_ more flexible than her friend was – relied on her leaner, suppler muscles, and she would often skip out on the weights, instead going the extra mile with another set of exercises. Then, they'd stretch - and they'd stretch well, because they knew that after having both run a good distance and already having done double the normal amount people would exercise in the entirety of a day, and if they didn't stretch that out, they were going to be sore as all get-out, no matter how in-shape they were.

But more importantly, they were less likely to kill one another if they were limbered up and ready to go.

That particular Saturday morning, however, Dave was in for a change of routine. He entered the safe house to nothing but utter silence - typically, the static of an old police radio could be heard in the other room, if not the sound of the miniature television set that Mindy kept to keep track of the news. The lack of sound immediately put him on edge, and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise as if lightning had struck within feet of him.

Mindy was _always_ there first, no exceptions.

It was almost instinctual, the way he switched into "stealth mode." While he was not quite as graceful or quiet as Mindy, (whom, in all fairness, he reckoned to be a hundred pounds lighter than himself,) it was still difficult for him to register the noise of his own footsteps or even his own breaths, though the rapid beat of his heart was roaring in his ears in a way that was almost distracting.

_Almost,_ mind you - the sound of his heart told him that the adrenaline was not completely overtaking his head or his senses, and as long as he could hear that rhythm in his chest, an attacker would be hard-pressed to get the drop on him without taking some kind of damage, much less without being seen.

The open room with the mats for sparring and the equipment for training was completely clear, and he made damn sure of it. Though the roof was not as open as their main headquarters, he checked even above his head for any sign of anything, and he came up with nothing. With the same caution in his movements, he made his way to the next room, one of only two left, (the other being the small shower and bath that they used to get cleaned up before school.)

Three steps through the doorframe, Dave paused. The cot that served as an uncomfortable makeshift bed looked as though it had just been evacuated, bringing to him the conclusion that yes, someone had been in the safe house at _some_ point that morning or the night before. He walked closer, just to see if there was a note or clue or _something_ from Mindy that would tell him where she was, little sense as that made - they had cell phones, and even if Marcus had managed to ground her or take her phone in the first place, she had easy access to cheap prepaid TracFones that she could dispose of at any time.

As soon as he was within two feet of the bed, his blood stopped pumping. Ducking, he swore angrily as something circular and sharp whizzed past his head with enough force to sound like a gunshot when it hit the wall beside the mattress. Dave quickly turned on his heels, fists raised and ready to fight -

- When his chin was met with the tread of a small, pink sneaker.

He stumbled backward from the force of the flying kick, catching himself against the bed as best as he could. Mindy landed the kick with perfect form, not looking even a bit out of breath, and waited for him to collect himself.

"_Christ_, Mindy!" Dave slurred, his jaw already feeling as though it was locking up. "You could've snapped my neck!"

"Your neck _would've_ been snapped if I'd been serious, idiot," she replied coolly. "Now, what's that thing I'm always telling you? You know - about letting your guard down?"

"Don't turn your back to doors," he murmured, his eyes looking elsewhere. "Where the hell were you hiding, anyway?"

"Cabinets."

"Goddamnit."

Mindy walked over, offering the older boy her hand. He looked at her warily, expecting some sort of trick, but when she gave him an exasperated expression, he took the help. He hauled himself to his feet, using the bed for the most part, before again rubbing at the underside of his jaw.

The blonde girl gave him a slap on the cheek just hard enough to hurt for good measure.

"You actually _felt_ that," she stated.

"Well, yeah," he replied coarsely. "My nerves are messed up, but I can still feel things - and damn it, that kick was fucking _hard._"

"Please. If anything, that was a _love tap_," she scoffed. "Now come on, we're trying something new today."

"New?" Dave fumbled before following her back out toward the mats.

"I didn't knock the hearing out of you, Dave."

* * *

"_Shit!_"

As he moved to turn and block what he thought would be a second barrage, Mindy dropped to the floor like a cat and swept out her right leg, hooking him behind his left knee as it bent. Again, with that unnatural amount of power she possessed, she pulled his leg out from under him and dropped him, and he hit his spine against the padded flooring with a heavy and resounding _thud._

The girl sighed, straightening herself and walking the two feet to where he was groaning on his back. With more than just _slight_ annoyance showing on her face, she glared down at him, her arms folded across her chest.

"Are you even listening to me?" Mindy asked, her voice remarkably calm.

"Yes!" Dave nearly shouted, attempting to get the stars out of his eyes.

"Then why the fuck are you on your back again?"

"Because you're some kind of midget ninja!"

Mindy rolled her eyes and moved off a little, and Dave willed himself to sit up. All those warnings she'd given him about not getting warmed up before fighting were true. Even as he kept moving and his body kept working, he could feel the soreness and stiffness creeping toward the ends of each of his limbs.

But with Mindy turning to give him a glare that struck the fear of God into him, he made himself get up, roll his neck once, and re-assume a proper stance.

"Good," the girl murmured, the beginnings of a satisfied smile appearing on her lips.

"Why are we doing this?" Dave asked. "You're always preaching about warming up."

"Well, I _did_ warm up," Mindy replied. "But you're not always going to have the chance to get ready, Dave, and I'm trying to see how you work that way. And you're not doing so well so far."

"I'm going to hurt for a week," he mumbled. "And it's not really a fair fight with you anyway."

"Is it _ever_?" she snorted. "Now stop being a pansy for a minute."

She looked him over once before walking toward him, and while he stiffened at her advance, she ignored it. Once she was within arm's reach of him, she inspected him once more before walking all the way around him, much like a 'sensei' would do in some karate movie. Aware that this resembled that sort of situation, Dave was on edge, as in all those movies, the student would always end up on their ass.

Mindy stood back before him without coincidence before giving the verdict.

"Alright, I'm gonna give you a tip," she began. "Your stance is fine up top - your upper body is pretty well defended when you're fighting." She motioned to his hands and shoulders. "But you ever hear that saying, 'no hoof, no horse?'"

"No," he replied. The thought flickered through his head that those horseback riding lessons Marcus was having her take were probably teaching her more creative ways to kill people by using animals to help.

"Well, they _shoot_ horses that get their legs fucked up. You've seen it on TV." She removed some of the fringe from out of her face as she continued talking. "What I'm saying is that if you can't keep your legs under you, it doesn't matter how great your defense is up top. If you can't stand up, how do you fight? And if it comes down to it, how do you _run_?"

"Alright," Dave said, looking down at her, "I get it. But how do I -"

"Just think like you've got eyes in your feet."

Dave was about to ask her what in the hell that could possibly mean when she immediately moved back into action.

He easily calculated her first move - a quick jab upward was his typical signal that the fight was on again. He blocked it with the back of his left arm and pushed her fist away, and she moved with the momentum, coming around to his side. He attempted to shift with her, but with the quickness of the motion, he left his side exposed, and she was able to give him a good punch to the ribs. He hissed a swear before quickly shuffling back, regaining his defensive stance before she could continue.

"You can try to be on the offense, you know," Mindy said with a maniacal grin.

Dave said nothing in return, simply waiting for her next move. Again, she started with the sort of speed you could never come to expect, even after having worked with her for so long. She feigned an uppercut, and as he adjusted to block it, she found that opportunity to punch him _just above_ the groin.

She'd held back, but it was enough to double him over. Sick of seeing him put down his guard so easily, Mindy then leapt, grabbing him by the neck and flipping him onto the mat again. Dave let out a loudly-groaned swear, and Mindy quickly pinned him down by the shoulders, her thighs straddling his chest as one hand held him down by the collarbone and the other lightly grasped at his throat.

They stayed like that for a moment, Dave swearing and trying to hold back what felt like a gallon of bile rising in his throat. He didn't want to puke, especially knowing that she'd beat him up even _more _for it, but _damn_ if that throw hadn't jostled his insides like the contents of a snow globe.

A minute passed, and his stomach finally settled, (even with Mindy's full weight pressing down on his ribcage.) She no longer gripped his throat, but stared down at him with a look of sadistic amusement that made Dave consider her sanity for a fleeting thought.

"That wasn't my leg," Dave choked out, finally breaking the silence.

"Did I tell you I'd be going for your leg?"

"I thought it was implied."

"Don't make assumptions, fuckball," she said, and she gave him a light slap on the cheek - more of a pat than anything. The girl began to move off him. "Now, let's -"

Dave brought a knee up and between Mindy's shoulder blades, knocking her forward, before he grasped for her shoulders and shifted his weight. In a second's time, he was hunched over on top of her, his hands holding her forearms out beside her head and a knee resting heavily on her stomach.

The movement was so sudden and forceful that Mindy found herself out of breath. She glared up at him, her cold green-blue eyes fiercely threatening, though she was the one at the hot end of the gun this time.

"You got me," she murmured lowly. She gave a soft sigh and lightly lidded her eyes. With her lips drawn into a slight pout, she looked back up to him and asked in a voice barely audible, "Now what are you going to do with me?"

Mindy knew what she was doing. She had been taught that a person should use any strength they have to their advantage in a fight, and if using her appeal was stereotypically _feminine_ of her, it didn't matter to her at all. She'd learned at an early age that there were several things men, in general, were prone to, and one of those things was their own fucking libidos. If she had to flaunt a little bit to work her way out of something, she wouldn't hesitate to do it.

She'd expected more than anything to simply fluster or confuse him a bit so that he'd falter, but the grip on her arms and the knee on her midsection never loosened or eased. She kept her eyes on him, and he stared down at her with a fiery intensity that honestly amused her more than it pissed her off.

Then, without any more warning than that, he leaned down and captured her lips.

The girl was so surprised that she didn't even begin to respond until the kiss became more aggressive. She then closed her eyes and began to return the gesture, and Dave gave a satisfied grunt. He slipped his tongue over her lips before dipping between her teeth, and she opened her mouth to accept him.

Mindy then bit his tongue harshly, immediately tasting blood in her own mouth.

Dave growled, but even as he parted from her, he did not release his hold on her. He looked down to her, surprised to find her mouth curved into a sneer, but before he could stop it from happening, several large drops of blood dribbled down off his chin and onto the side of her cheek and her chin.

Finally, he moved from off top of her and brought a hand to his mouth to stop himself from staining anything. Mindy, who found herself surprisingly unable to move at the moment, turned her head to the side and spat a good amount of blood onto the mat.

"I'm sorry," Dave stammered as he tried to keep his bleeding tongue from choking him or making a mess on her floor.

"You won, didn't you?" Mindy replied, turning her head to face him. "I mean, I fucked up your tongue pretty bad, but you weren't gonna move until you started spewing blood all over me."

Dave didn't want to admit it, but he'd had the thought many times before. He enjoyed it. It had hurt like a bitch and a half, getting thrown about and having his tongue nearly divided in two, but it was still the only way he found himself having a truly good time. He felt like he could actually let loose with Mindy; she could take it, and she'd throw it right back at him _tenfold_. But the fact that he'd kissed her like that, harshly and without any sort of permission - that hadn't changed, and that hadn't been acceptable. He looked over to her again.

"I shouldn't have kissed you," he garbled, struggling to articulate the words. "That wasn't - I'm sorry."

"Don't be such a pussy, Dave," Mindy scoffed. Dave noticed the blood on her face and chin that she still hadn't wiped off, and he still couldn't help but feel that he'd gotten out more intact than he probably should have. With a half-grin, Mindy continued, "I'm not crying over here, am I?"

* * *

They'd gotten cooled down and cleaned up for the most part. Dave was sitting on one side of the table, sloppily trying to drink out of his water bottle because they didn't have any straws, and Mindy was on the far side with a cup of hot chocolate. She watched him wince every time the cold water hit his tongue, and having realized she'd definitely bruised his chin up pretty good, she couldn't keep herself from feeling a little bad for having been so hard on him that day.

She got up and went to the small fridge with the miniature refrigerator and pulled out the ice tray before returning and setting it on the table in front of him. Dave put down his water bottle and screwed on the cap before, looking between her and the ice.

"Suck on one of them," she told him. "It helps."

He took a cube from the tray and began to suck on it, and though it stung for a moment, it quickly began to soothe his burning tongue. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh through his nose, running his tongue over every face of the ice cube. Mindy swore it looked more like he was getting off than trying to fix his tongue.

The blonde placed her elbows on the table and propped her head up on the heels of her palms, watching as he quickly sucked the life out of one piece of ice and moved on to the next. Even after having had a full bottle of water and half of her mug of cocoa, she could still taste his blood in her mouth. The amount of blood that had ended up in there was comparable to having had her own nose bashed in, but what ended up in her throat wasn't even her own. She was going to have to brush her teeth pretty good to get rid of all the remnants.

"You owe me dinner or something," she said quietly.

"_Hmph_?" Dave mumbled, his eyes shooting open to meet hers.

"That was my first kiss, asshole," she scoffed. "I want _something_ good to come out of it - besides a good story, I mean."

Dave heavily swallowed the remains of the ice he'd been sucking on. Mindy was smiling down at the table, her left brow cocked in amusement at what she only guessed to be a look of shock on his face.

"God, Mindy," he stumbled, "I didn't -"

"You'll make it up to me somehow," she said, her pale eyes returning to his. They somehow managed to look both warm _and_ mischievous, and while Dave wasn't sure how exactly to feel about that, he felt a burning sensation in the pit of his stomach nonetheless.

"I will," he replied, and they exchanged a smile.

"Eat some more ice," she said, motioning to the tray again. "I don't think the bleeding's stopped."

Dave complied, taking another ice cube and sighing as it touched his tongue again. He focused completely on the cooling sensation that slowly ebbed away at the pain for a long moment until he heard Mindy moving. He returned his attention to her and watched as she took her seat and began to sip on her hot chocolate again.

Mindy looked back to him, and with a snort, she said, "Get that guilty look off your face. You look like a kicked puppy." Shaking her head, she gave him a grin that said, _you really are an idiot, aren't you?_

"Sorry," he slurred through the ice in his mouth, turning his gaze away from her.

"Don't be, moron," she said with a smile. "It's not like you popped my goddamn cherry or anything."

Dave nearly choked on the ice, coughing and sputtering as Mindy proceeded to finish off her cocoa.


End file.
